


When Silhouettes Fall

by visionshadows



Category: The Wire
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visionshadows/pseuds/visionshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Omar gets his revenge. Written for Yuletide 2005 for Kat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Silhouettes Fall

 

McNulty stared at the body by the windows that overlooked the waterfront. He knelt down to get closer to the face that had haunted him for the last two years. Two years of chasing down Stringer Bell, trying to catch him in a lie, and they'd been too late.  
  
"Fuck," McNulty swore under his breath before standing up again. He looked out the windows until he heard Bunk shuffle over to him. "We had him, you know."  
  
"Someone else got him first," Bunk said, chewing on his cigar. "Shotgun shells."  
  
McNulty finally looked over at him, shaking his head. "Was it who I think it is?"  
  
Bunk shrugged. "Won't know for sure. Won't fucking matter anyway. Besides you, who really cares that Stringer Bell is dead?"  
  


* * *

 

"It being your town, I trust you to do it proper."

Omar looked at the gun extended towards him before taking it. He slipped it into his jacket, his other hand still on Dante's elbow. "Indeed."

Brother Mouzone looked at Omar once more. "I hope we never cross paths again."

"You and me both," Omar said as he turned away and walked out the door, Dante by his side. "Not a word until we're alone."

Dante nodded tightly, yanking his arm away from Omar. "Right."

Omar looked up at Lamar on the balcony as he walked away, his hand moving to rest on Dante's back possessively. Lamar's lip curled and he turned away. Omar smirked a little at that. In the end, Lamar was more scared of him than he'd ever want to admit.

"I shouldn'ta told him," Dante said quietly. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Quiet." Omar touched Dante's jaw lightly, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Just be quiet."

 

* * *

 

Omar held Dante's chin in his hand, scowling a little as he looked at the bruises and cuts. Brother Mouzone - well Lamar really - had worked Dante over pretty good to get information out of him. It pissed Omar off, knowing someone he loved got fucked over because of him again.

At least Dante was still breathing. When Stringer and his boys had been done with Brandon, all Omar had left was a fucking corpse. But they had paid. All of `em had finally paid.

Omar reached for the wet washcloth and began to clean off the dried blood. Dante hissed slightly as the rough cloth was dabbed against his lip.

"It ain't so bad," Omar said quietly. "Just let me do it."

Dante reached up and wrapped his fingers around Omar's wrist. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"It's okay," Omar said, running his free hand over Dante's cheek. "Worked out in the end."

"He kept asking about you. Bothering this bartender at some bar you'd never be at. So I tried to get him to shut up, put a gun to his head and everything," Dante's words were rushed, upset. "But Brother Mouzone was there too and I didn't know that. They just wanted to find you. And I told `em."

"Yeah, so they used you to get to me," Omar said firmly. "I don't fucking care. You're alive, that's what matters."

"What did you have to do to get me back?" asked Dante softly.

"Weren't nothing I didn't want to do," Omar assured him. "Something I been wanting for a long time."

"What did you do?" Dante asked again, his hand tightening on Omar's wrist.

"Got my revenge." Omar looked away from him, staring at the cracked wall behind the bed. "Stringer's dead."

Dante let go of Omar's wrist and leaned in to wrap his arms around Omar's waist and pressed his face to his neck. Omar leaned against him, holding Dante tightly.

"I'm just happy you're back," Omar said softly. He pressed a kiss to Dante's temple. "Didn't need someone else dying cause of me. Killin' Stringer was business. You're personal."

 

* * *

 

Omar shoved his hands in the pockets of his trench coat as he walked along the river front. He kept his head down, walking down to the railing overlooking the Harbor. He leaned against it, looking at the dark water below.

Brother Mouzone's weapon was heavy against his side; his own shotgun felt light in comparison. If the cops were smart, they'd know he had something to do with Stringer's death. The shotgun shells would give him away.

But why get rid of a gun that had been so good to him? They'd only be able to match the shells to other shells anyway. Not like the cops didn't know he'd killed people.

And he was gonna have to keep doing that if he wanted to survive. Omar Little wasn't going to retire from the game anytime soon. Not till someone put a bullet in him like he had done to Stringer.

Omar pulled Brother Mouzone's gun from his coat, looking at it for a moment before tossing it into the Baltimore River. He shoved his hands back into the pockets of his trench coat and turned away.

Brandon was long gone. Stinkum was dead. Wee-Bey was in prison for life. Avon was on his way down. Stringer had finally got what was coming to him.

But Omar Little was still alive.

 

* * *

  
  
  
The bedroom was dark when Omar returned from his errand. He undressed slowly, putting his shotgun back in the dresser. He ran a hand over the barrel before he turned to look at Dante in the bed.  
  
Nothing was easy about his life. He stole from drug dealers for a living. He loved men - pretty men - instead of women. He had turned witness on Bird. He'd cooperated with the cops when it had suited his needs.  
  
People died cause of who he was. Brandon, John Bailey, and Tosha so far. Maybe Kimmie if she came back. Definitely Dante. Hell, even Butchie wasn't safe if it really came down to a war.  
  
Omar lifted the blankets as he climbed into the bed and rested his head on the pillow. Dante was fast asleep, his face pressed against the pillow, soft snores escaping from his lips. In the darkness, Omar could barely see the bruises. He leaned in and pressed gentle lips against Dante's forehead.  
  
Dante snuffled a little and moved closer to Omar in his sleep. Omar pulled him close, his arms sliding around Dante's waist. He would be able to sleep a few hours before he needed to go see Butchie and find out the news. Stringer's death was going to resonate through the streets and Omar had to know where the cards were falling.  
  
The cops would know it was him and soon enough the street would as well. Revenge had been his lifeblood for two years. Now that Stringer was dead and Avon was on his way down, Omar knew he could finally rest. Until it happened again.  
  
When Dante was killed, Omar knew it would be because of business. And Omar would learn to live for revenge again.

 

 

 

[  
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